morning. Stone's movement down the run- way began with a shimmy and turned into one long curtsy. It was intriguing, but the models, who stood in a line watching, pro- vided a counterpoint no less entertaining. When the star made her entrance and the crowd cheered, they seemed a bit unsure. Then, once she showed that she dIdn't have "the walk," they projected pure attitude. It went something like this-"She may have stolen the finale, but she ain't about to steal our jobs." It was a sly series of looks and smiles among themselves, with just a hint of benevolent condescension-and as charming in its own way as Stone. It was re- vealing in terms of basic instInct, too. Movie stars are about "Love me"; models are about " B " uy me. There was another expectant moment at the close of the Yves Saint Laurent show. His afflictions and his past stumblings on the run- way have become lore in the fashion world, and the very fact of his continued existence is treated as something miraculous and spooky. Would his presence remain in the air, like a scent, or would he appear bodily? Like Stone, SaInt Laurent peeked out from behind .... .... ' Drzes Van Nolen's soulfulness. ) ! ( / r "......,. J \ t _? .. 1 " " t ) \\ \ \ Giorgio Armani's look ahead.